


California Dreamin

by Ambereen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt Boys, I'll fix it, M/M, Natural Disaster, OT5, San Andreas? What?, Time zones?, Zayn left the band but that's okay, larry stylinson - Freeform, someone take my computer away from me, what is this crap, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambereen/pseuds/Ambereen
Summary: When the stage started shaking under his feet, Louis didn't think much of it. It literally didn't register. Harry was bouncing around near the edge of the stage, pumping the crowd up, a strip of skin showing across his stomach where the shirt wasn't long enough to cover. Call him shallow, but that was really taking all his attention.Singing came second, staying up on his feet came third.





	California Dreamin

**Author's Note:**

> Another really old one. Obviously inspired by San Andreas and Sia's song 'California Dreamin'. This was written to ignore the fact Zayn left the band - and partially because I like torturing myself. 
> 
> Warning: the Earthquake hits the boys on stage. There are mentions of hurt/dead fans in the stands. For obvious reasons, if this will bother you, please don't read this.

When the stage started shaking under his feet, Louis didn't think much of it. It literally didn't register. Harry was bouncing around near the edge of the stage, pumping the crowd up, a strip of skin showing across his stomach where the shirt wasn't long enough to cover. Call him shallow, but that was really taking all his attention. Singing came second, staying up on his feet came third. But watching his boyfriend do what he was born to do was just as enthralling now as it had been when they were little more than kids on the X-Factor. 

But when the slight shake suddenly spiked, he found the stage ripped out from under him. He hit his knees, rolling, and looked up just in time to see Liam slipping from one of the higher parts of the stage. Niall was on the floor as well, looking confused, and Harry- 

Harry was on the ground on the other side of the stage, being helped up by a security guard. He was holding his shoulder, wincing slightly. He must have fallen off, must have lost his balance. But before Louis could do more than push himself up, the stage rocked again, sending him crashing back down and the fans finally started to scream, finally started to push at each other, and over the crackling in his in-ears he could hear one word that sent a shudder down his spine. 

_Earthquake._

In the span of a heartbeat, everything erupted. The stadium started to shake harder, the crew ran onto the stage, hauling up Niall and shoving him towards the wings. Liam was practically hauled to his feet, his hat left behind, his in-ears hanging over his shirt. But when hands started to yank him up, Louis fought them. “Harry. Get Harry. _Harry_.” 

The stage gave another lurch, Louis only keeping his feet by falling into three different bodies. It was disorienting, terrifying, but all he could think about was Harry, on ground level, with the thousands of fans who were trying to climb over everything in their panic. He could get crushed, he could get hurt. He could get stuck, with no way of getting back on the stage. “Harry!” 

“We'll get him!” He was shoved, hands on his back sending him staggering. “Get off the stage!” 

There was a series of loud cracks that drowned out their voices, sparks and glass raining down. Louis' toms kept losing grip, sliding him across the non-slip stage surfaces like he was on ice, as part of the stage's backdrop came crashing down, sparking electricity in every direction. 

“Louis!” 

Hands, familiar hands, grabbed him when he rocked again, keeping him upright. “Liam!” 

Liam looked shockingly young, his eyes huge in his face. There was blood dripping from a cut on his cheek, and Louis could just see Niall steps behind him, arms out to keep his balance like he was surfing. He'd seen them reach the edge of the stage. He knew he had. Why were they back out here? 

“Harry.” It was all he could gasp out, clinging to Liam's arms as the world shook around them. “Harry. He's on the ground. He fell off. He can't get back. Liam, I need-”

The stage gave a huge lurch, the hardest yet, and vertigo hit hard as the stage collapsed under their feet, and they were falling, falling, falling. 

*

“Zayn. Sweetheart.” 

Zayn felt hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him away, trying to turn his eyes, but all his mother succeeded in doing was pulling him down to the couch. He barely noticed. He was too busy staring at the television screen. He'd been channel surfing, enjoying the day while trying to pretend he wasn't completely bored, when basically every channel started to switch over and report breaking news from California. 

It had taken Zayn a full ten seconds to understand what he was seeing. They got earthquakes in England, but nothing really approaching a five. What was happening in California was already reportedly over that, and the footage they had was terrifying. Buildings crumbling, breaking apart. The street shattering into pieces, parking garages folding in on themselves. 

There was a split second shot of the stadium, out of focus but shaking, the lights on the top starting to fall, and Zayn's stomach lurched even as his heart fell to his feet and then back to his throat, choking him. 

“Zayn.” His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him as he gagged, losing everything in his stomach onto their living room floor. Tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes, his throat burning from bile as the reporter kept going on about state of emergencies and experts from CalTech that were warning everyone to leave, to evacuate. That it wasn't over, in fact it was just going to get worse. 

How could it get _worse_? 

“Zayn, maybe you should-”

“No.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his entire body starting to shake as he focused back on the screen. “No. The boys... they... they're there. The stadium. The show.” His stomach twisted again, and when he swallowed he was almost certain he felt the shards of his heart ripping his body apart. “Liam.” 

There was a pause, his mother trying her best to come up with something that would soothe him, comfort him, but she had almost ceased to exist. The house ceased to exist. He could only stare at the screen as the reports kept coming, as footage was played on loop. As the stadium in the corner kept showing up, the same shot of the lights falling, and all he could think about was how he was supposed to be there, that if he wasn't so stupid, if he had just stayed and worked it out... he would be there. He'd be with them. He wouldn't be half a world away and completely helpless. 

“I should be there.” 

“No. No, Zayn. Sweetheart.” His mother was crying now, tears falling to hit his skin as she held him tighter, almost rocking him in her arms. “No. You're here. You're right here where you belong.” 

Was he? 

*

Louis' ears were ringing. He could hear screaming, could hear things crashing to the ground, but it was all so far away. And when he opened his eyes, the world was spinning too. It was dark, so dark, and every part of his body ached. He could taste dirt, dust, and blood in his mouth, and when he slowly reached back to his ear his fingertips came away sticky and wet. 

“Liam?” It hurt to talk, but he coughed through it. “Niall?” 

He couldn't see much, but he could move, and he slowly started to spread his hands around, trying to find more than rubble. It took him a few slow shifts across the ground before his hand fell against something softer than rock, and he inhaled so sharply his chest seized and all he could do was cough. 

When the fit stopped and he could breathe again, he was dizzier than ever, black edging in on his vision but he blinked the stars away and just started to feel out, almost desperately. _Don't be Liam. Don't be Liam. Don't be Liam._

His fingers fell on short hair, soft stubble, and the remains of in-ears crushed to pieces on the ground, and his inner mantra drastically changed to _don't be dead, don't be dead, fuck you don't be dead._ There was something wet on his hands, something he was stubbornly hoping was just water, but no matter how close he put his face, all he could make out was the curve of Liam's body and half of his face, the rest of it cast in shadow too dark to see through. 

“Liam.” He swallowed dust, his mouth so dry it was like he was choking on every syllable. “Come on, mate. Don't do this.” He found his shoulder, shook it once lightly, and then harder. The ground had stopped shaking, but he was too afraid to hope that it was over. There were aftershocks, weren't there? He was sure those were a thing. Fuck, where was Niall? He'd know. Niall always seemed to know everything. 

Tears were starting to well in his eyes, but he blinked them back. This wasn't right, this wasn't _fair_. Where were his boys? Where was Niall, where was _Harry_? Oh God, if he thought about Harry he was going to fall apart. Had he gotten out? Had they made it to him? Was he safe? He shook Liam harder, too panicked to think if that was a good idea. If he was hurt, surely shaking him wasn't a good idea? But he was alone. 

_He was alone._

“Help!” He screamed it at the top of his lungs, his ears still ringing too much for him to judge how loud he was. For all he knew, he was whispering. “Someone help us!” 

His ears popped, pain flashing through his head, the screams so much louder, so much more terrifying. And they only raised in pitch the second the world rocked again with the screeching groan of metal and rock shifting. Without even thinking, Louis threw himself over Liam, his arms wrapping around his head as the entire world fell on them a second time. 

*

Something was wrong with his eyes. There had to be. Because every time Liam closed them and opened them again, the scene never changed. It was still almost completely pitch black, but there was enough filtered light for him to see he was trapped. There was concrete around him, pieces of twisted metal, and when he craned his neck back all he could see above him was jagged rubble and a slightly brighter spot of darkness that might have been the sky. 

Every time he looked down, there was still a pole through his leg. 

It didn't hurt, exactly, but Liam was pretty sure that was the shock. The last thing he could remember was running back onto the stage to get Louis and Harry. Niall had been okay, though he'd tried to follow him. There had been hands everywhere trying to stop them, but the boys of One Direction were nothing if not adept at escaping their handlers. 

He'd gotten to Louis, hadn't he? So where was he? 

“Lou?” His voice was little more than a croak, but he swallowed past the lump in his throat, tried again for something louder. “Louis?” 

There was a shower of rubble near his head, and he closed his eyes against the dirt, turning his face away. But then there were a familiar pair of toms in his vision, and he barely had enough time to take a relieved breath before Louis was on him, his grip so tight he couldn't breathe. 

“Liam. Liam. I thought you were dead. I thought you were fucking dead. _Liam_.” 

“Not yet.” It was a wheeze as his vision blinked in and out, and Louis let go like he'd burned him, skittering back so Liam could make him out somewhat in the dim lighting. 

He was a mess, his white shirt ripped and stained. He was pale under all the dust, his blue eyes a shocking pop of color. But they were too light, his lips strained, and when he reached out again Liam caught sight of his right wrist, too swollen not to be broken. Louis hadn't seemed to notice, because he used it to drag him back in for a hug that was slightly less constricting than the one before. 

“You came back on the stage.” 

Liam pushed himself up with one hand, as far as he could get, and wrapped the other around his back. Louis was shaking so hard he could barely hold onto him. “Yeah.” 

Louis might have been crying, but Liam couldn't tell. Not that it would have mattered. There were tears in his own eyes, stinging so bad he could only try to blink them away as they clung to each other for far longer than they should have. Finally, Liam swallowed, and gave him one last hard squeeze before letting go. “Where are we?” 

“Under the stadium.” Louis took a breath and leaned back. There were tear tracks down the dust on his cheeks, but Liam didn't say a word. “Earlier we landed just under the stage, but the second time... we're under the stadium. Maintenance tunnels, I think. We crashed right through. I was trying to climb up, see if I could find someone to help... But I couldn't get far.” 

“Niall? Harry?” 

“Niall isn't here. Not that... Not that I could see.” Louis took a breath, his bottom lip trembling slightly. “I have no idea where Harry is. I haven't seen him... I haven't seen him since this started.” 

Liam nodded, trying to calm his rising panic. He reached out, squeezed Louis' left hand, and then rubbed at his face. “Okay. Okay. If you can't go up you're going to have to try to find a way around. You'll have to see if there's any part of the tunnel left open, try to get to the surface.”

“Me?” Louis stared at him, so shockingly pale. “Why me? What about you? Aren't you coming with me?” 

Liam could feel the pain now, spreading up his leg. He tried his best not to look down, or wince, but Louis was quick, and before Liam could stop him he'd looked down, he'd seen his leg and the metal that had gone through it, and any color left in his face was gone. “Oh no, Liam. Oh God. Oh God.” 

“Listen. Louis-”

“Oh _God_.” Louis was breathing hard, far too hard, his shaking so much worse. “Oh God, your leg. Liam, your _leg_. You're trapped. You're stuck. You... oh God, we're going to die down here. We're going to _die._ ” 

“Lou-”

“No, no, no. No. Oh God, oh fuck no.” 

The sharp crack of Liam's palm connecting with Louis' face shouldn't have been so loud, but it resonated, ringing in Liam's ears long after Louis was just staring at him, silent, his breathing still fast, but not in panic attack levels. 

“We are not going to die. You're going to go find someone.” Louis was already shaking his head, and Liam grabbed his arm so tight he winced. “You are. God damn it, Tommo. You have to.” 

Louis swallowed, and that echoed too. “I'd have to leave you here.” 

“Yes.” 

“I can't do that. I can't. Liam-” 

“Harry might need you.” Liam grit it through his teeth, and Louis' jaw clicked audibly shut. “What good are you if you stay here? If you die? You know Haz. He needs you, he always needs you. What if he's just waiting for you to come find him? What if he isn't moving because he knows you'll come looking and if he's not where you last saw him-” 

“Stop.” Louis practically sobbed it, hands pressed to his face, his eyes, digging through his hair. “Just stop. You're right. Okay? You're right. But if we have another one, you'll be...” 

“You'll send someone to me before that.” Liam forced himself to sound stronger than he felt. Inside, he was just as panicked as Louis. If the earth moved anymore, If the jagged rubble above him shifted and fell, there would be no way to get out of the way. “All right? I'll be fine.” 

Louis was hesitating, but Liam had gotten to him. It felt wrong to use Harry like that, but it was the truth. Louis was rather single minded at times. He wouldn't snap out of it for himself, but if Harry was involved, he was focused and determined and a force to be reckoned with. “Go, Lou.” 

“Don't... don't die.” Louis whispered, his voice cracking. “Don't die, Liam.” He dropped a kiss to his head before stumbling off, wiping at his eyes, and before the shadows swallowed him Liam took one good, last look before he closed his eyes and tried to breathe past the pain. 

He didn't make that promise. 

*

The phone had been ringing non stop since the reports had started. Zayn hadn't answered a single one, and he hadn't moved. Everyone had tried to make him turn it off, to stop watching. They had all hugged him, his younger sisters had cried into his neck, begging him to just look at them, to talk to them. They wanted comfort too, but Zayn didn't know how to give it to them. He felt... detached. Distant. 

There were reporters calling. Friends. Family. People in the business and people who weren't. Everyone wanted to talk to Zayn, but Zayn only wanted to talk to four people and they were... God what if they were... His stomach twisted again, but there was nothing left in it to lose. He couldn't think about that, didn't want to. They were his family, his brothers, his best friends. They would be fine. They had to be. 

He wasn't sure when Doniya had come around, but one moment she was there, sitting with him. Not saying a word, not trying to hug him. Just sitting there watching the footage on loop. It wasn't over, that's all the reporters kept saying. People were on air praying for the people of San Francisco, talking about relief efforts and recovery. None of it made any sense. Nothing. 

“Have you tried to call them?” It was a whisper, but it sounded like a shout, and all of a sudden Zayn's world shifted. His sister looked pained, her lips pressed together, a good bit of distance between them on the couch. But he yanked her in, so hard she gasped, his heart pounding. 

There was something like hope burning in his chest, choking him, filling him, and he fumbled for his phone, fingers shaking so badly he could barely get around the numerous voice mails and text messages and twitter alerts. He needed this to work. He needed to get through. That was the only thing he could think about as he hit Liam's name and gripped the phone so hard his knuckles went white. 

It never rang. 

He hung up, called again. And again. And again. He was hitting the phone so hard, trying to dial them all through the tears, until finally Doniya took it from him with a soft, heartbroken “Zayn.” 

“I thought he'd answer.” It came out a sob, his entire body shaking as he covered his eyes, finally looking away from the destruction on the television. “I thought, maybe...”

The phone rang. 

His heart jumped, hope flaring, and he grabbed it before Doniya could keep it from him. He didn't even look at who it was. “Liam? Harry? Lou? Niall?” 

There was a pause. “Mr. Malik? My name-” 

Zayn threw the phone at the wall. It hit, breaking into pieces, and Doniya gasped, her eyes wide, her arms falling from around him. He put his head back into his hands, breathing heavy, and closed his eyes. 

“Go away, Doniya.” 

*

About halfway down the only tunnel that had enough space for him to get through, Louis discovered his wrist was broken. He tripped when the ground shook, just a tiny tremor that launched his heart in his throat, and landed on his hands. Absolute agony shot up the right one, and he rolled to his back, gasping and clutching it to his chest. 

He thought about going back to Liam, coming up with another plan, but when he got a hold of himself and looked back it was to a beam that had fallen across the path behind him. There was no way back. Liam was well and truly on his own. If he didn't get help, there was no way he was getting out of there alive. 

Gritting his teeth, and pushing up with his left hand, Louis climbed back to his feet and staggered on, keeping his right arm as close to him as he could. There was still some light in this section of the tunnel, an emergency light that flashed red. It wasn't enough, but it was leading the way, and when there was a clear enough floor in front of him, he ran. He didn't know if he was heading towards help or away from it, but he ran. 

He could still hear screams, other people calling for help, but he pushed on. He wanted to stop and help, he really did, but he had no idea where anyone was. Finally he came to a set of stairs, and he stopped, just staring at them and the door that was halfway open and hanging on one hinge. He could see light behind it, flickering, and all of a sudden he was too terrified to move another step. 

What if everyone was dead? What if it was just him and Liam after all? And he'd just left him there? If he went up there and he found them... what would he do? He wasn't prepared for this. He didn't know how to save anyone. The most he would be able to do was what he was already trying to do. Run and find someone else. 

The earth shook again, and Louis bolted for the stairs, crashing through the door and falling immediately to his knees. The light was blinding. Or what there was of it. There were stars above him, a few lights still working, thought most were out, and fire in the stands. 

He absolutely refused to focus on the stands. He couldn't. 

The stage, or what was left of it, was to his left, and for a moment all he could do was stare in horror. The backdrop had fallen to pieces, and there was a huge hole where the middle had given way. His stomach rolled and he fought back the vertigo of remembering. There were people staggering around on ground level, all of them crying, all of them bloody and bruised. More people were lying, hurt, dead, trapped under things. 

No. Not just people. _Fans_. They were fans. Their fans. 

Louis felt bile rising in his throat. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to have a good night, supposed to all get home safe and sound and spend the next week blowing up his twitter feed with how amazing it was to see him. Not this. Never this. 

One fan looked over, caught his eyes, and the two of them just stared. She was on her knees, not trying to escape like the rest of them. Her eyes were red, tears dripping down her face, over the remnants of face paint on her cheeks. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. 

There was a collapsed part of the stands to her right. He saw a hand before he looked away. 

She never said a word, and he kept on staggering towards the stage. 

No one else noticed him. No one cared. He was going the wrong way. They were trying to leave, he was trying to get further in, trying to force his way over broken chairs, cracked earth, and more holes in the ground that fell into other tunnels. 

He hadn't been this invisible since before the X-Factor. 

The earth was still trembling, tiny little tremors every few minutes that made him hurry even faster. Every time he passed someone who screamed for help, their hands reaching, he felt a part of himself die inside. And when he finally made it to where he'd last seen Harry, the rest of him followed. 

There was nothing there. The front of the stage, the ground, it was all swallowed up in a huge crack that went down further than he could see. There were chairs and metal framework clinging to the edges, but it was like the earth had just opened up and swallowed this entire part of the stadium and something in Louis shattered. 

“Harry.” It was a whisper, burning his throat as he hit his knees and curled his fingers at the edge. Dirt crumbled under his grip, but he leaned anyway, trying in vain to see down. Hoping he wouldn't see anything, and fearing he would. “Harry?” 

It was no use. He couldn't see a thing. And no matter how many times he screamed down, nothing, and no one, answered him. 

Slumping back, Louis sat at the edge of the hole and just looked up at what was left of the stage. He couldn't move, didn't want to. If Liam had been right, Harry was gone. If he had stayed, waiting for him, he was dead. There was no hoping otherwise. And everything left in Louis' world didn't seem to matter. He knew his family was going to be devastated if he died, that they were most likely losing their minds right now, but a world without Harry Styles was not a world he wanted to be in. 

“Louis!” 

Closing his eyes, Louis gripped at the dirt and grass, not even looking up at the shout of his name. It was just a fan. God, he was never going to sing again after this. He wasn't even going to listen to music. It was ruined for him. Everything was ruined for him. 

“Lou!” 

The world shook, the ground shifting under him the way it had the very first time, and Louis sucked in a breath, his grip on the grass falling away as the ground near him started to crack, break, fall in. He threw himself backwards, crawling as fast as he could, getting caught up on broken chairs and rubble as he kept just ahead of the sinking earth. 

“Harry, _no_!” 

That was Niall, that was _definitely_ Niall, and Louis' heart lurched as one of his feet met nothing but air. The tremors were throwing him around too much, he couldn't keep ahead of it, and before he knew it his hand was grabbing at nothing and he had half a second to suck in a breath before the ground under him went too. 

He fell for a heartbeat, two, before he was jolted to a stop by his left wrist, his body slamming so hard into the side of the hole that he screamed, his broken wrist taking the brunt of the impact. His vision swam, his throat closed up from the pain, and for a good few seconds he had no idea what had stopped him. 

Until he looked up and there was Harry, stupid, stupid beautiful Harry, on the edge with both of his hands wrapped around his arm. His eyes were wide, there was blood on the side of his face, but he was there, he was alive and not at the bottom of the crater, and Louis had the insane urge to start laughing through his tears because _he_ was almost the one at the bottom of the crater. 

“Hazza.” It was a rasp, and even though the world was still shaking around them, and the ground at Harry's feet was starting to crumble, they locked eyes for one impossible second. They both knew it was over. “You know I...” 

“Yeah.” He whispered, and Louis couldn't _hear_ it, but he could _see_ it. 

His wrist had just started to slide from his grip when Niall was there, throwing his arm around Harry, and then there were people practically throwing themselves over the edge to grab at Louis, to latch onto whatever part of him they could reach. They pulled him up, back to the mostly solid ground where he laid there gasping for breath, his hand still latched onto Harry, who was on his side next to him, with Niall holding onto him for dear life. 

“Liam.” He forced his name out, throwing his broken arm out, towards the stage. Trying to get anyone, everyone's, attention. “He's under there. He's trapped. He can't-”

The earth gave another lurch, throwing them to the ground. Harry cried out and Louis grabbed him, holding him close to his chest. And he knew, he knew before he heard the cracking, the groaning, the roar, as the rest of the stage collapsed. 

It was there one second, and gone the next, and Louis choked on a scream as dirt and dust crashed over them like a tidal wave. 

*

The evacuation shelter was on the other side of the marina, a high point where rescue helicopters made quick stops to drop people off and then left again. Some people had managed to get into boats, had made it out of the city, and were slowly pulling in. Someone had set up a fence with pictures and notes for survivors. Everywhere you looked there were people looking for someone else, asking everyone they could, and walking around in a daze when no one had an answer for them. 

Louis was sitting with his back to a wall, Harry in his lap, and Niall at his side. They were surrounded by what remained of their backing band and their crew, a solid wall between them and the rest of humanity. It didn't matter, though. Not here. 

No one gave a shit about One Direction right now. 

Someone had given them bottles of water, bandages, and they'd patched each other up as best they could. A field medic with blood on his hands wrapped and splinted Louis' wrist and gotten Harry a brace for his shoulder. Niall had gotten a piece of glass embedded in his thigh, but luckily it had missed anything vital. 

Other than that, everyone was basically just banged up. They'd lost some of their crew, and Harry was especially shaken up. Part of the lighting system had crashed down in front of him, narrowly missing him, but taking out the security guards that had come to his rescue. Louis distantly wondered if it was the men he'd yelled at, but he couldn't be sure, and he didn't want to ask. 

He hadn't said a word, actually. Not since they'd been air lifted out of the stadium. He had made the mistake of looking down, and the crater that had swallowed the stage and part of the stands was massive. The earth had literally broken apart, and took everything close with it. The death toll was going to be astronomical. 

Louis was only thinking about Liam.

He'd left him there. He'd died alone. 

When One Direction was created, when five misfits came together to form the world's greatest boy band, they'd made a promise to stay together, to work through their issues and meet the world head on. They'd been brothers from the start, best friends for life, their bond so unique that no one else in the world would ever be able to touch what they had. They would never have to be alone again. 

And Louis had _left_ him. 

Tears welled up in his eyes again, and Harry reached up to touch his face. He wiped the tears away without a word, just like he'd been doing for the past few hours, and Louis closed his eyes and leaned into him. Harry understood better than anyone. They were all hurting, all mourning, but Louis blamed himself. It was his fucking fault. He'd done it. 

Harry didn't blame him. Harry just wiped his tears away and held onto him tighter. 

“We'll get you on a jet.” Someone was saying over their heads an hour later. “You'll be home soon. We've notified your families, they'll be waiting for you at the airport.” 

“What about Liam?” Niall whispered, his accent so thick it was almost impossible to make out the individuals words. “We can't leave him.” 

There was a pause, a shift in footing, before a throat was cleared. “Emergency teams won't be able to approach the stadium until the earth settles. That crack was part of the fault line shifting. It's unstable.” 

“But he could still be alive.” 

“I'm sorry.” The man murmured, and Louis closed his eyes so tight lights flashed behind his eyelids. “There is nothing we can do.” 

“I dont... I'm not going to accept that.” Harry spoke up, and it was the first time he'd spoken since they'd been rescued. His voice was scratchy, raw, but it was like a soothing balm to Louis. “We're not leaving him. Dead or alive, he's going to come home with us. He's _ours_.” 

Louis opened his eyes in time to see the man shake his head. “Look. This is the hard truth, but there are plenty of people who want to go home. You're only going because you're famous. If you weren't you would be waiting here like the rest. The stadium is basically gone. Do you understand? It's gone. No one is getting a body back. There won't be a body to recover.” 

Niall flinched so hard his entire body shuddered, and Louis was opening his mouth when Harry beat him to it, his tone flat and hard. “We're going home with Liam or we're not going home at all.” 

The man looked frustrated, and Louis wrapped his fingers around Harry's, squeezing tight as his hands shook. “You heard him.” 

“Now listen here you ungrateful brats.” 

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you.” 

Louis sucked in a breath so fast he was dizzy, and Harry stilled against him, his nails digging into Louis' skin. The man turned, his hands fists at his sides, and there was Liam on crutches, a medic on either side of him, his leg in a cast and his head bandaged. 

None of that detracted from the look of absolute fury in his eyes. “Yell at my boys one more time. I fucking dare you.” 

“Liam.” Louis breathed, already struggling to get up with Harry in his lap. It wasn't a coordinated effort, Harry was trying to move too, and they kept crashing into each other. Especially considering neither of them were taking their eyes off Liam and the guy that was practically in his face. 

“Fucking asshole.” He spit at Liam's feet, but he walked away. And that didn't matter, none of it mattered, because _Liam_. 

Free of Harry, finally, Louis stood on extremely shaky legs, his back against the wall. “How?” He croaked, taking him in as best he could with eyes that were swimming with tears. “Li, _how_?” 

The medics helped him walk, and it was obvious after the first step the crutches were there mostly for show. There were tight lines of pain on Liam's face, his movements slow, but when they were close enough, the crew grabbed him and helped him the rest of the way. 

“I pulled it out.” He gave Louis a tight lipped smile. “Not that I didn't trust you, mate. I just-” 

Louis rushed him. It wasn't the smartest of ideas, but the crew had him standing and Louis hit him and wrapped his arms around him as tight as he could manage when he was shaking like a leaf. “You idiot. You fucking stupid, beautiful idiot.” 

Liam took one arm off a crutch to wrap it around him. It made him list sideways, but everyone was there to grab him, to hold him steady, to wrap him in so much fucking love Louis was drowning in the middle and it wasn't even _for_ him. 

“Liam.” Louis whispered, so much apology in his voice, and Liam held him even tighter while Niall and Harry fussed over him and above it all there was the crew talking about heading to the jet, calling Liam's family, finding them all proper medical attention when they were home. 

“Don't, Lou.” Liam murmured, so soft it was almost too hard to hear him. “I trusted you. I trust you still. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I left you.” The tears slipped free, the lump in his throat the size of a baseball. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He had his forehead pressed to Liam's shoulder, could feel Harry's hand, large and warm at the back of his neck. Could hear Niall sniffling off to his left. It was almost perfect. 

“Make it up to me, then.” Liam breathed out at his ear, his own voice tight. “Find me a phone that works. I have someone I need to call.” 

*

It had been hours. Zayn had finally stopped watching the television when reports came in that there was really nothing left of the stadium. The first time he heard the words “One Direction” he had shut the television down, staggered to his room, and curled up in his blankets. 

He had never felt so helpless, so utterly damn helpless. The four most important people in the world to him were half a world away, their lives on the line, and he was here at home, completely safe and completely miserable. If this was karma, he had to wonder what he'd done that was so bad to deserve this. 

Everyone was so happy he hadn't been there. That was all he kept hearing. Everyone was glad he wasn't with them, but Zayn was furious. He should have been there. If something happened to one of them, it happened to all of them. That was their promise to each other. They had promised to stay together, and he'd broken that promise. 

He couldn't stand it. 

“Zayn. Sweetheart.” His mother opened the door, phone to her ear. Her voice was thick. She'd been crying again. He wanted to be there for her, she had loved the boys too, but he couldn't work up the effort. He could barely look at her when she came over to the bed. “Here.” 

“I don't want it.” He pushed the phone away, rolling over to give her his back. “Tell whoever it is that I'm not happy, okay? I'm not relieved. I'm not glad. I should have been there.” His voice cracked, but he ignored it, fisting at the blankets. “I'd give anything to be there.” 

His mother sobbed, a soft little noise, and Zayn felt bad for it. He did. But. 

“Take the phone.” She shoved it at him, in his hands. And for just a moment Zayn thought about hanging up and just handing it back. She'd leave him alone then. Maybe everyone would leave him alone then. 

But her eyes, filled with tears and so pleading, made him bring it to his ear instead. 

“ _What_?” 

“I'm glad you weren't here.” 

The line was full of static, crackling loudly in his ear, but the voice was so unmistakable that Zayn could only cling to the phone as the world rocked around him. “Liam?” 

“I'm glad you weren't here.” Liam repeated, like he'd never even spoken. Like his entire heart hadn't been in his throat, bleeding out in his voice. “I don't think I could have handled it. Knowing you were safe, that you were home or out in the studio... That got me through, Zayn. Coming back to you was all I could think about.” 

There was a lump the size of Ireland in his throat. Choking him. “Are you... The boys?” It wasn't what he wanted to say, but he had to know. Needed to know. 

Liam sighed softly, and Zayn closed his eyes, drinking in his voice. “They're fine. Banged up, bruised. They miss you. But we're coming home. I'm about to get on a plane.” 

In some part of Zayn's mind, he heard the soft click of his door shutting, knew his mother had left him. “I'll be there. When you land.” 

There was a pause, the crackling taking over the line for a few spare seconds. “Zayn?”

He gripped the phone so tight the casing creaked under his fingers. Just then, Liam sounded a million years away, so soft and quiet it was almost like a dream. “Yeah, Li?” 

“I'm glad you were safe, but I... it's not right. We're not right.” 

Zayn closed his eyes, breathed through his mouth, and gripped at the bed under him until his knuckles were white. “I'll be there next time. Okay? You tell the boys. I'll be there next time.” 

There was a sound on the other end of the line that Zayn absolutely would not think about, Liam's voice coming down the line rough and raw. “Yeah. Okay.” 

“Get on the plane.” Zayn swallowed, staring at the photo his mother had placed long ago on his bedside table. His boys grinned back at him, so young, so bright and hopeful for the future. And there he was, right next to them. Where he belonged. “I'll see you guys soon. Tell everyone... tell everyone I love them.” 

“You got it.” Liam whispered. “See you soon.”

“I'll be there.” Zayn promised. 

And he would be.


End file.
